The Refugee
by Blue Dragon
Summary: After the war, two Animorphs are reunited in an unexpected way. The first still fights the Yeerks, with the same devotion as always. The other has just escaped from prison... [alternate war ending, 5354 never happened]


The Refugee  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Rachel turned another corner. She saw her house up ahead, and sighed with relief. It was still standing.  
  
Every time she returned home, she feared her house would have been attacked by the Yeerks again. They knew she lived there. They weren't strong on Earth any longer, but Rachel knew very well that they were still an enemy to be counted on. She fought them still, working for the AYA - the anti-Yeerk agency.  
  
She was dressed in the agency's well-known uniform. Any Yeerk who happened to see her would know that, and either flee or attack. She was afraid of neither. She could handle problems on her own. The Yeerks were scattered, living on scraps and hiding - mostly unsuccessfully - from a stronger and stronger agency. Earth was slowly but securely returning to what could be counted as normal. Except, Andalites and other aliens were daily sights in any place - on the Andalites' part, mostly in snack-bars.  
  
Whistling to herself, she walked up to the house, opened the door, and - hand on her shredder, as always - stepped silently inside.  
  
When she saw the room was empty, she quickly checked the other rooms for dangers before she relaxed. She fixed herself a cup of well-earned coffee in the kitchen, placed her shredder within reach on the table and sat down.  
  
She stirred her coffee, mind relaxed. She was tired from a days hard work. Her fingers were aching wearily from handling the controls and joystick of the small fighter she had been assigned for the day. She wasn't used to working in a fighter, she mostly did ground-based assignments. Fortunately, she'd got out early that day.  
  
It would be nice to rest, she thought. For once.  
  
Then she felt something cold pressed against the side of her head.  
  
"Don't move," a voice said.  
  
Rachel's hand flew automatically up towards the shredder. A strong man's hand stopped her, grabbing her wrist.  
  
"I said, don't move," the man repeated. He sounded stressed. Nervous. A combination Rachel knew well.  
  
"Who are you?" she growled. "Friend… or foe?"  
  
"Friend."  
  
"Friend? Yeah, right. Then take the gun away and let my hand go."  
  
The man did as he was told.  
  
Big mistake, Rachel thought.  
  
She grabbed the coffee cup and threw it up to where she thought the man's face was.  
  
A cry of surprise told her she had guessed correctly.  
  
She spun around, swung the chair with all her might and hit him in the side. He fell, but grabbed her wrist and pulled her down.  
  
"Chill!" he cried, but Rachel swung a fist into his stomach and kicked violently at his knee. He groaned, but managed to catch her wrists again (while she was trying to flatten his nose) and forced her to stay… well, at least more still than before… by pressing her down under him.  
  
She struggled to get loose, kicking wildly. But she didn't succeed.  
  
"Well," the man gasped. "Still same old Xena, are we?"  
  
Rachel peered at his face for the first time. She stopped kicking. "Marco?" she whispered.  
  
"Some say so, yeah," Marco nodded. "Now then. If I let you go, will you promise not to… hurt me?"  
  
Rachel hesitated, but then nodded. Marco let her go. Without any warning she hugged him, tight, but just as suddenly she scrambled away. Then she straightened up, and looked him in the eye.  
  
"You're out of shape," Marco remarked, climbing to his feet.  
  
"I could have kicked your lousy excuse for a butt if I'd wanted to," Rachel snapped, trying to regain some lost dignity.  
  
"Oh, yeah? I don't think so. Xena's lost her touch."  
  
"You haven't lost your big mouth, I see. Shut up, Marco."  
  
Marco sighed heavily, rubbing his side where the chair had hit him. "I've missed hearing that."  
  
"It's your own fault. So. Snuck out of prison, did you?"  
  
`"I got bored. Wanted to try something new." Marco grinned, the same old grin that Rachel remembered so well. But there was a touch of melancholy that hadn't been there before. An emptiness in his eyes. "You know, get a price on my head. Be hunted; the universe's most wanted."  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
Marco's grin faded. "I need help, Xena. I really, really REALLY need help."  
  
Rachel stood up, grabbed her shredder from the table and stuck placed it on it's normal place, hanging from her hip.  
  
"I won't harm you," Marco said, eyeing the shredder cautiously. He lifted the gun he had brought up from the floor and placed it on the table.  
  
"I don't know that," Rachel said. "You were convicted for murder, Marco. That kind of thing makes people think twice before they trust you."  
  
"Oh," Marco sighed. "That again. Hey! You know what? Let's put that behind us. Trust me. I'm still me, right? Still the person who's butt you wanted to kick every time I opened my mouth."  
  
"That sure hasn't changed." Rachel smiled. "Might be so. You wouldn't mind if I called for back-up? Just to be on the safe side."  
  
Marco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Rachel thought it might depend on her uniform. "That depends."  
  
She shrugged.  
  
"Isn't Tobias around? I thought you and he… you know… might… live together or something."  
  
Rachel's face suddenly looked very old. "Tobias died two years ago, Marco. He… got killed."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Not as sorry as the Yeerks were for killing him," Rachel growled vehemently. "When the agency finally stopped me, the Yeerks were starting to invent new ways to be afraid. They were actually very creative."  
  
"A little fear never hurt anyone," Marco said, smiling wearily.  
  
"And that coming from you," Rachel said. "Why did you escape from prison anyway?"  
  
Marco glanced away. Then he looked at the shredder at Rachel's hip. Her hand was resting calmly on it. Not in a tense way, as if she would be ready to use it, but more in a way to remind him that it was there.  
  
"You don't trust me," Marco said slowly. "You think I'm just another killer on the run. You'll hand me in without a moment's hesitation."  
  
The last part was said so coldly that Rachel flinched as if he'd struck her.  
  
"But I'm not going back there!" Marco exclaimed. "I won't! I'm never going back!" he glared at her, challenging her to disagree.  
  
"I won't hand you in," Rachel promised softly. "Maybe you're right: I don't trust you. But I won't hand you in. Yet."  
  
If Marco relaxed, it didn't show.   
  
"By the way… how did you escape?"  
  
Marco smiled. "That prison wasn't built to keep morph-ables in. I could have escaped four times a day if I'd wanted to. Some times I thought about doing that just to pass time."  
  
"Why didn't you escape earlier?"  
  
Marco shot a glance out the window. Then he looked straight at Rachel. "Can I trust you?"  
  
"Well, I…"  
  
"Fine. You don't need to trust me. But can I trust you?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
Marco nodded back. "I noticed a few uninvited guests came popping into the guards' ranks. Old friends of ours. I thought it was time to leave. Fast."  
  
Rachel's forehead wrinkled. Surely, he couldn't mean…? No; impossible. Completely and surely impossible. "Who?"  
  
"Guess. Here's a hint; slugs. Brain-snatchers. Kandrona. BINGO! Yeerks."  
  
"Yeerks!?" Rachel cried, alarmed. So she had guessed correctly! But it was impossible! "In the prison? But… how? Why? The controls on those guards are fault-proof!"  
  
"Obviously not," Marco commented. "Believe me. I knew something was going on. The latest half-year or so, I've had this bad feeling. It was when they took me out of my cell and tried to have me infested that I decided to get out of there."  
  
Rachel stared at him. The prison was supposed to have the best anti-Yeerk security on the planet, only over-passed by the agency itself! But it seemed that the Yeerks had been underestimated. Not for the first time, Rachel admitted to herself.  
  
There was still a major hole in Marco's story.  
  
"Why did they go through so much trouble to infest you?" Rachel asked. "I mean, you were an Animorph once, but you're just another criminal now."  
  
Rachel saw that the remark had stung. She bit her lip, wishing she'd said something else.  
  
Marco pointed to his head. "They wanted this."  
  
"Your head? Why yours?"  
  
"Because mine holds a secret. I know something they REALLY want."  
  
"What?"  
  
"If I told you, they'd be after you too," Marco pointed out. "I won't let that happen. I wouldn't do that to a friend."  
  
"They suspected you'd tell me the second they learned you entered this house, Marco. It's a nice thought, but it's too late."  
  
Marco shook his head. "I thought about that. They might. But they might also realize I'm smarter than that. They might realize I won't tell anyone. The fewer people who know, the better."  
  
"The Yeerks don't think that far."  
  
"They'll make en exception," Marco laughed. "For this one, they'll think until they die of Kandrona starvation because they missed their feeding. They're eager to get it. They'll try to trap me any way they can. And to do so, they'll check up everything about me and evaluate it all. By now, they know me as well as Jake ever did."  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
Marco grew serious. So serious, he even sounded believable. "Trust me, Rach; they're desperate. They broke through prison security for this secret. They'll walk over the dead bodies of their entire army if they think they have to. Why do you think I stayed in prison so long? Freedom has always been high on my list. And yet, I stayed locked up in there, eight damn years, cause I thought; 'what better place to hide the secret? What place is safer?' Turns out, I was wrong. There is no safe place."  
  
Marco sighed. "And another thing. They suspected you as soon as I left the prison, Rach. Nothing to do about. That's why I came here. To warn you, really."  
  
"Don't worry about me, I work with the agency. The Yeerks will never break through our security. Never."  
  
"Oh, 'don't worry about me, I'm stuck in jail.' See the similarities?"  
  
Rachel blinked. "Just because you've escaped from prison and the Yeerks are hunting you, doesn't mean you can…"  
  
"You know what? Shut up! SHUT! UP!" Marco roared. He was quivering, from anger and stress and perhaps a mix of other things as well. "Will you help me or not? I don't need anyone saying it's no problem, I don't need anyone else carrying around this secret. I need help, Rachel. I need help to hide from the Yeerks. If you won't help me, I'll find some other way to keep my secret safe. But I'm running out of options. The world would be safer with me dead. I've given it some thought, and I like it. No more prison, no more accusations, no more shame, and the secret gone forever. The world would be safe."  
  
Rachel shook her head. "No," she whispered. "That isn't the right way."  
  
"Maybe it is."  
  
"Tobias is dead," Rachel said. "One dead Animorph. Don't make it a second, Marco. We'll keep that secret of yours safe. The problem is where to start."  
  
"The prison will know you live here," Marco said. "They'll check this place out. No problems - I'll morph something and hide."  
  
"The question is who's the quickest," Rachel pondered. "The prison - or the Yeerks?"  
  
They exchanged a glance. They both knew the answer.  
  
"Yeerks."  
  
"Yeah. Yeerks," Marco agreed, shooting another glance out the window. When he looked back at Rachel, it was to find that she had taken out a small transponder that had stood hidden in a cupboard. "What's that?" he asked.  
  
"My own personal secret," Rachel said. "It's a long-range telephone. I need to reach Jake, and for the moment he's outta this world. This is the only way I have to reach him - if I don't call the agency and file an official report on how and why I want to call him. Really annoying. Don't tell anyone I have this. I'm not supposed to."  
  
Marco grinned. "No problemo. I am the master of secret-keeping. Just one more thing; if Jake arrives here, the Yeerks will know for sure that I'm here."  
  
"Of course. But by then, the old team… except for Tobias… will be back together and as unbeatable as ever."  
  
Rachel pressed a few buttons on the transponder, and then a very familiar voice said; "Rachel? What's up? Why are you calling?"  
  
"We have a situation down here, Jake."  
  
"I'm busy. The agency can help you."  
  
"Oh, no. WE have an elephant-sized SITUATION."  
  
Jake didn't get the hint fast enough. Rachel was met by silence. So she snapped; "Just get your miserable butt down to Earth this instant!"  
  
Jake replied in a tone that suggested he wasn't happy about it. But Rachel snapped at him a few more times and he finally agreed to return to Earth.  
  
"That was so see-through," Marco complained. "Any moron could have figured out that 'we' meant 'we Animorphs'."  
  
"Jake didn't."  
  
"Oh, I forgot to tell you? When it was all set up and I was going to prison, I thought I might as well have a real reason for it. So I stole his thinking ability," Marco barked angrily.  
  
Rachel peered at him. "One moment. You practically said there was no reason for you to go to prison! Did you?"  
  
"Well…"  
  
Rachel glared. Marco shrugged.  
  
"I'll tell you tomorrow. When Jake gets here." And he cut her off as she protested with; "Do you have anything to eat? I haven't eaten anything more than rodent for two days!"  
  
  
  
Jake arrived promptly in the morning. Rachel met him in the door, and led him into the living room with an air of normality. But Jake saw through it as if it was glass.  
  
"What happened, Rachel?" he said as he sat down. He had the same business-like expression as always. "Cassie and Ax are coming later, I just took an early transport. But I want to know what's up."  
  
"Wait here," Rachel instructed. "I'm getting something to drink. I'm thirsty."  
  
Rachel left the room, and walked into the kitchen. She began ruffling noisily through the cupboards. A normal, everyday sound, but Jake felt tense anyhow.  
  
Marco stepped into the room silently. He had become good at walking silently. Jake sat with his back turned to him.  
  
"Hi," Marco said carefully.  
  
Jake spun around in his chair. He saw Marco, and his eyes grew wide.  
  
"You!" he hissed. His hand flew downwards.  
  
"No shredders!" Rachel snapped and stepped up beside Marco. "I don't want burn-marks in my house. Or blood on the floor."  
  
Marco looked like a rabbit about to flee.  
  
"Rach - you know who that is!"  
  
"Yeah, I know him very well," Rachel continued. "That's why he's still here. If you don't like it, you can leave. Just don't babble about it with the first agency guy you meet."  
  
Jake glanced at Rachel uncertainly. "He's a killer," he said, his voice cold. "And you're let him stay here?"  
  
"Yeah. Problems? Bye-bye. Say hi to Cassie and Ax for me."  
  
Jake shook his head. "And leave you alone with… him? No."   
  
"Good boy." Rachel patted his shoulder affectionately. Then she quickly explained why Marco had escaped from prison, and roughly gave Jake the same story Marco had given her. Jake kept glaring at his friend, only half listening to what Rachel said.  
  
"He's promised to explain," Rachel finished. She pushed Marco towards a chair and sat down herself next to Jake on the sofa. Then she gave the refugee a harsh look. "Explain."  
  
"And make it a good one," Jake muttered. And then he added: "Killer."  
  
"That was a blow below the belt," Marco said. He leaned calmly back in his chair, but generally looked as if he could run up any moment. A mouse waiting for the cat to strike.  
  
"Sorry," Jake sniffed without any real feeling. His hand was down by the shredder again. Rachel hadn't noticed.  
  
"Apology accepted," Marco said cautiously.  
  
"Okay," Rachel said. "Where were we yesterday? Oh, yeah; you claimed there was no reason for you to go to prison."  
  
Jake's face went through a series of changes. Anger, determination, briefly happiness, curiosity, and finally disbelief. "What!? Everyone knows the reason for you to go to prison, Marco! You killed that agency guy. Mr Roberts, or whatever his name was! The same guy we were there to save from infestation!"  
  
Marco sighed heavily, shaking his head slowly. His face was set in stone.  
  
"You mean you're innocent?" Jake inquired. "Marco, you… you know exactly why! That guy was strangled by a gorilla."  
  
Rachel agreed. "He was found in a securely locked room with you and two dead Hork-Bajir. I can't see any alternative that doesn't put you as the murderer -"  
  
Marco exploded. He lashed out so suddenly that Rachel flew up, snatching her shredder and aiming it from pure instinct. But Marco smashed it out of her hand, grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently.  
  
Jake flew up just as quickly, ready to intervene.  
  
Rachel began to break loose almost instantly. It wouldn't have been hard to do.  
  
But just as suddenly as Marco had lashed out, as if realizing what he was doing, he let go of her. He kept his eyes down as he retrieved the shredder and wordlessly held it out for her to take.  
  
Rachel didn't move. Neither did Jake. But both were watching Marco as if he was the detonator of a nuclear bomb. With the clock ticking down…  
  
Marco shook the held-out shredder back and forth.  
  
"Set it to maximum and keep it aimed," he advised in a growl. "That's what they do with murderers around. And if you insist that's what I am, then that's how you should treat me."  
  
Rachel looked at the shredder, in something like disgust.  
  
Jake didn't change his face from indifference.  
  
"No," Rachel said, swallowing. "Keep it. You need it more than I do."  
  
"Then can we drop the though of me being a murderer… just long enough to hear me out?"  
  
Rachel nodded. Jake said nothing; did nothing. Just watched grimly. Marco sat down on a chair, but still threw Rachel the shredder. She turned on the safety - just to show that at least she didn't consider him a threat - and placed it demonstratively back in its place.  
  
"You remember what else was found in that room?"  
  
Jake was demonstratively silent. Rachel hesitated.  
  
"No-one does. No-one cared about my story. Not that I ever told it to anyone; no. But they did find one more thing. A dead, crushed Yeerk. But any fool could see that the cause of death was Kandrona starvation." Marco shivered. "I just flattened him because I hated him. Hated what he'd done."  
  
"Dead Yeerk?" Jake spat. "Yeah. I know. From one of the Hork-Bajir."  
  
"Oh-no. If they'd done a proper autopsy on those Hork-Bajir, they'd have found Yeerks in both brains," Marco sneered. "But no-one at the agency cared, did they? They wanted to nail someone for killing their invaluable scientist. He was the only one who knew anything about… well, he was the only one to know what I now know. That's why the Yeerks wanted him so badly."  
  
"And now they're after you," Rachel added.  
  
Jake yawned.  
  
"They certainly took their time, but they figured it out. They figured out that I'm not just the Animorph who let himself get locked up for killing someone."  
  
"And how, exactly, are you supposed to have ended up with this secret?" Jake asked with a drawl of boredom.  
  
"We were running through those hallways, right? Trying to 'save' Mr Roberts from the Hork-Bajir. Then those security doors closed. Locking me and Mr Roberts in with two of the Hork-Bajir."  
  
"That far we know."  
  
"Anyway, after I'd dealt with the Hork-Bajir, I was bleeding pretty bad. So I demorphed to avoid bleeding to death. A lot of hours of waiting passed. After that, I'm not sure. Maybe I fell asleep. Maybe I was knocked out. But the next thing I know, this really slithery slug called Erish-one-four-one is making himself at home in my head."  
  
"Yeah, right," Jake interrupted. "And we're supposed to believe that? Real nice story, Marco, but you're fooling no-one."  
  
"Jake," Rachel said casually. "The door. And don't forget to close it behind you."  
  
"I'm staying."  
  
"Then behave, or choose between me kicking your skeptic butt out a window or you walking out yourself."  
  
Jake glared at Rachel. Rachel pointed determinedly towards the hallway.  
  
"Continue," Jake muttered at Marco, sinking down lower in the sofa's seat.  
  
"Well then. Erish was in my head. He'd come from Mr Roberts - sorry to burst your bubble, Jake, but he was a Controller for a total of five minutes before we got there - and now Mr Roberts was trying to kill Erish; and thereby also me. Erish didn't like it, and morphed the gorilla. He smacked Mr Roberts into a corner."  
  
"But then he'd still be alive."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And he was dead."  
  
"Obviously. Erish wasn't stupid. He'd rather have kept Mr Roberts alive, but didn't think he could. He was at the end of his feeding cycle. If he'd just died, Mr Roberts would have been alive and free to tell the story, and the Yeerks wouldn't ever get a sniff of the secret ever again. So Erish had decided on something else. He had crawled into my head. And planted the memories of that cursed secret in here."  
  
"Which still leaves Mr Roberts alive," Rachel said.  
  
"I'm getting to that. Erish had planned it all very carefully. He killed Mr Roberts, thereby hoping his fellow Yeerks would guess I hadn't really been myself for a short time. And making sure that Mr Roberts wouldn't talk, as a bonus. Then he died of Kandrona starvation hoping that no-one except the other Yeerks would believe my story."  
  
"But you never told anyone that story," Rachel finished.   
  
Jake huffed. "Never had anything at all to say to your defense."  
  
"He never confessed, either," Rachel pointed out.  
  
Jake shrugged.  
  
"Tell my story?" Marco laughed. "Let the Yeerks know about the secret? Are you insane?"  
  
"They've figured it out by now," Rachel said.  
  
"Yeah. Which brings us back to the reason for sneaking out of prison. The not-as-safe-as-you-all-thought prison."  
  
Rachel sighed. "We'll have to do something about that."  
  
Jake stood up. "I'm calling Cassie and Ax. Be right back." He gave Marco one look, and added; "Don't you try anything stupid."  
  
Marco shook his head as soon as Jake had left the room. "Will he believe me?"  
  
Rachel shrugged. "Yeah. After I break his nose, perhaps, but he'll believe you plenty. And besides, if Cassie trusts you, he will. Then he'd trust you if you said the moon was made of cheese. Ax, I don't know about…"  
  
Jake re-entered the room. "They'll meet us above the agency this evening. I haven't given any details, but I told them an old friend stopped by." At the word friend, Jake made a face as if he'd eaten something bad.  
  
Marco ignored it. Then he flashed a grin. "I don't know whether to be furious or happy about you guys not figuring it all out. I mean, if you did, you'd have ruined everything. But instead you left me to rot in prison without even trying to stand up for me."  
  
"We all have our bad days," Jake said.  
  
"Or years," Marco added. "What's up with you, Jake? You've turned stony. Cold. Unfriendly. Untrusting."  
  
"He's been like that for years," Rachel said.  
  
"Have not."  
  
"Don't argue with me, cousin dear; you have. Period."  
  
Jake looked at Marco. His look held skepticism in enormous amounts. There was no doubt about what he thought of Marco's story. His hand was openly on the shredder now.  
  
Marco read that look like an open book. Jake wouldn't trust him with a weapon for five seconds. And Marco had to admit; neither would he in Jake's place.  
  
"Jake, buddy, I don't care if you've changed. I don't care if you don't believe me," Marco said, spreading his hands wide and then clapping them together. "I'm not the trusting type either. So I don't mind. You can trust me, or you can shoot me."  
  
Rachel's mouth hung open in protest, but she didn't manage to say anything. Jake didn't alter expression for a second.  
  
Marco repeated the last part. "Trust me, or shoot me. Simple. But whatever you do, don't send me back to prison. DO NOT turn me in."  
  
"I can't be sure you're telling the truth," Jake stated.  
  
"No. You can't. Neither can Rachel, but she trusts me. It's all up to you. Trust me, or kill me. No other options."  
  
Jake took on that stern, business-first look. "You know you're getting no-where. You're going back to prison. Where you belong."  
  
Marco's face turned as stony as Jake's. He stood up. "NO. Follow my latest motto, Jake. Trust 'em, or kill 'em. If you don't trust me, fine; kill me. I don't mind. But don't send me back to prison; don't send me back to the Yeerks. If you try, that leaves me with one option. If anyone gets in my way, I'm fully prepared to kill them. Even though I would truly hate to kill an old friend."  
  
"Oh. Bet you would."  
  
"Only if I have to. I'm taking zero chances."  
  
Jake glared at him. Marco looked back, expressionless but relentless.  
  
"I trust him, Jake," Rachel said. She took Marco's hand, and placed his arm around her shoulders. Marco looked wary. "You should, too."  
  
Jake's determination expression flickered like a flame running out of oxygen. Slowly, it faded, replaced by worry and sadness and - surprisingly - friendship.  
  
"I… I… feel like an idiot."  
  
"Not surprising," Rachel said dryly.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  
  
Author's Note;  
  
Nope, no continuations. This was all. I had planned to write more, if I remember correctly - it was written a LONG time ago, after all - but I never wrote it, becuase I had no idea what to write.  
  
So don't ask for a sequel. This is where it ends. A short story about the decision to trust... or not to trust.  
  
[Another possible ending just struck me. At the end, add this; "Jake nodded. And, lifting his shredder, shot Marco straight in the face."   
Just an idea. If you think that's what Jake would have done (or you're just sadistic) and you like that better...] 


End file.
